That Which Was Pure
by Phantasmal Abduction
Summary: First upload for a long time. Quite a disturbing oneshot that may turn into more. If you don't like rape themes and sadism don't even go here. Legolas is walking in the forest. He didn't think to watch for this enemy.


That Which Was Pure.

With the taut string of his bow pulled hard against his throat it was all that Legolas could do to arch his back to try to relieve the pressure on his windpipe. Belatedly he realized that even as he was being so vigilant towards threats from outside the Fellowship, so should he have been guarding against poison from within. He had never imagined however that the danger would take such a form.

Things had gone from normal to nightmarish in the space of a few short seconds and he could now barely force his mind to grasp what was happening. Aragorn had left the camp at dusk to hunt some game for dinner and Gimli had led the hobbits off to a nearby clearing to practice their combat skills. It had been a few days since Legolas had communed with the forest in the way of the Wood Elves so he decided to walk a short way from camp to pay homage to the spirits of the wood. Unfortunately, with his mind and heart lost to the trees, he did not hear the footsteps that shadowed him.

Now here he was, being half throttled with his own bow and uncomfortably aware of the strong body pressed close to his back. Every subtle attempt to free his wrists from the large hand that grasped them drew a wordless growl from his assailant and caused the cord across his throat to cut tighter into his skin. Finally aware that he was currently unable to escape the situation by strength alone Legolas resorted to reason and negotiation.

'Boromir,' he murmured. 'What can you hope to achieve by this? We have never had reason to quarrel…' And that was as far as he got, for the bowstring now tightened enough to make breathing difficult let alone talking.

You don't see it do you elf.' Boromir snarled from beside Legolas' ear. 'Damned if I am being flayed alive by it and you are blissfully blind. Allow me to enlighten you _Legolas_; let me bring you into the real world with us mere mortals.'

Suddenly Legolas was on his back on the hard ground, the bowstring still restricting his breath and Boromir was now using the full length of his own body to hold him down. 'You travel with the Fellowship thinking that you are here for your skills in combat and your Elvin knowledge. You just cannot see it; how your counsel is all he listens to and how his eyes follow you and only you. He sees your bright hair and pale skin, all the while ignoring someone who would be a far better match. Well elf, let us see how you fare and how he will value you when you are stripped of your purity.'

The words echoed in Legolas' head and for a long moment he could not force them to make sense. Who watched him? Stripped of purity? But then a cold wave of knowledge swept through his mind bringing with it icy clear understanding. It had always been Aragorn, the dark haired ranger, his oldest companion outside of his people. Always he had watched the descendent of kings with a deep yearning, but he hid safely behind the façade of Elvish reserve, sure that the Ellessar saw him only as a lifelong friend and nothing more. Now the truth was being thrown in his face and fear clutched him as the shape of the future became clear.

Legolas opened his mouth, though what he was about to say he had no clue, but before a sound could pass his lips his head was snapped sideways by a stunning blow from Boromir's mailed fist. The slap was powerful enough to bring the elf to the edge of blacking out and as he tried to cling to consciousness he was helpless to stop Boromir roughly tearing at his clothes. By the time his jerkin and breeches were strewn on the ground Legolas was just starting to struggle weakly, but he was no match for the strength and ferocity of the human warrior. Still half dazed he stared up at Boromir with panicked eyes.

Propped up on one hand, the other pinning Legolas' wrists to the cold ground, Boromir glared down at the helpless elf's naked body. Through the furious haze that blanketed his mind the son of Denethor could help but appreciate the marble-pale skin of Legolas' chest and the smooth firmly muscled planes of his body. Shifting his weight so that he was balanced on his knees Boromir slowly ran his fingers over the bowstring still wrapped around the elf's throat and then dragged his nails down Legolas' chest leaving livid red marks and drawing from him a strangled groan. Smiling a feral smile Boromir traced down further, finally wrapping his fingers around Legolas' unwillingly semi-hard length. He felt himself growing hard as a half-moan half-scream tore from the elf's throat.

Ignoring Legolas' steadily more frantic struggles Boromir gripped the elf by the arm and bodily flipped him onto his stomach. Repositioning himself so that one hand trapped Legolas' wrists in the small of his back, Boromir fumbled with his free hand to undo his belt. Once he was freed of his restrictive breeches he lowered his body onto the elf, reveling in the feeling of his flushed body pressed tight against the now trembling elf.

Without any further preamble Boromir reached around and forced his fingers between Legolas' lips. Once his fingers were covered in the elf's saliva he smirked against Legolas' neck and shoved his index finger inside the writhing elf. Though he was quick to muffle the resulting agonized scream by shoving the elf's face into the dead leaves underneath them, the echoes of Legolas' pain, fear and despair still rang around the clearing. Aware that any one of the Fellowship could have heard them Boromir decided not to waste any more time with foreplay

His head spinning, Legolas was barely able to cling to consciousness let alone free himself from Boromir's iron grip. But when he felt the searing pain of the man's fingers violating him he let out a howl of pain and thrashed wildly in a last ditch attempt to escape. It felt like he was just breaking free when Boromir shoved his face into the dirt and plunged his cock inside him with one violent thrust.

Legolas instantly forgot the pain in his shoulders and the dead leaves choking him, all that filled his world was the rhythmic, pounding agony. He drew in a deep breath to scream again and around his neck the bowstring was yanked so tight that the only sound that escaped was a hoarse whistle. His hands clutched convulsively at the ground as Boromir had released them to grab his hip for leverage for each thrust.

Boromir sank his fingers into Legolas' hip and pulled the elf's lithe body to him each time he slammed forward. Losing himself in rage and the feel of soft skin he plunged into Legolas again and again feeling himself rapidly building towards climax. As he drew back ready to surge forward again Boromir abandoned the bowstring and shoved a hand under Legolas beginning to pump the elf's cock in time to his pounding hips. He felt the elf's member quickly if involuntarily grow hard and changed the angle of his stroke; when he felt Legolas jerk under him and let out a groan that was almost a moan he knew he had hit the spot.

As his thrusts sped up and his harsh panting mingled with Legolas' anguished moans Boromir could tell that the elf was about to come. He increased the speed of his hand on the elf's cock and was nearly pushed over the edge himself when he felt Legolas shudder violently and spill his seed with a tortured cry. Brutally slamming his full weight into the limp body below him, it only took a moment before Boromir spent himself deep inside the almost unconscious Legolas.

After a minute to recover from the intensity of his climax Boromir unceremoniously pulled out of the motionless elf and set about straightening his clothing. He kicked Legolas' discarded clothes into a pile and knelt next to the elf's head grabbing Legolas' chin so he could look him in the face. Ignoring the elf's tearstained cheeks, bloody lip and bruised temple he leant forward and whispered, 'This is a lesson my Elvish Princling, to teach you not to aspire to something you can never have; or someone. The last king of man was never meant for you; together he and I will unite Gondor and the world of men. After all, what would he want with tainted rubbish from the Woodland Realm? When you are dressed elf I suggest you part ways from our company, indeed if you stay everyone will know you for the whore you are.'

With that parting shot Boromir dropped his hold on the silently weeping elf's face and strode off without looking back. He could hardly believe what he had just done, but the future before him seemed brighter and less complicated. Really that was all the elf was wasn't he? A complication that had now been removed. As he drew closer to the camp Boromir started weaving his tale of how a Woodland messenger had come across him and Legolas in the woods bearing tidings of the Elvin Prince's family, a missive requesting Legolas to travel home at once. The others would have no option but to believe this when the elf never returned.


End file.
